


Garden Woes

by Inkwell1013



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkwell1013/pseuds/Inkwell1013
Summary: Crowley always bullies his plants. Aziraphale babies them. They both think they are doing what’s best for their plants and its causing some conflict in their otherwise perfect relationship. One day, all the tension that's been building up explodes and an argument ensues.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Garden Woes

Armageddon had been stopped and all was well in the world. Crowley and Aziraphale had both been fired of course; that was to be expected after what they had done. Neither of them wanted to associate with either side now anyway.

Aziraphale’s awkward confession was accepted and requited and the two of them decided to move in together. There was just one small issue with that. They couldn’t decide who should move in with who.

Crowley’s studio apartment was too small for the two of them and quite frankly, Aziraphale didn’t really like Crowley’s neighbourhood. There was nothing wrong with it really, but Aziraphale didn’t enjoy being in areas full of negative energy and hatred. It made him feel unwell. Also, whenever he met someone going down a bad path, he felt a strong urge to show them the glory of God, which did not make him a popular person in those parts. Old habits tended to die hard after all.

They tried to move Crowley into the top floor of the bookshop but that didn’t work either. Aziraphale was far too protective of the books he sold and Crowley tended to pick them up with dirty hands or dog-ear the pages, infuriating Aziraphale to no end. There was also Crowley’s unfortunate habit of walking around the bookshop shirtless, completely oblivious to the shocked stares of the customers. None of Aziraphale’s customers seemed to like Crowley very much and Crowley was always picking fights with the customers who got angry and threatened his angel.

Neither option was working. When Crowley was flipping through a newspaper early in the morning, he found an advertisement for a cottage in the outskirts of London’s suburbs. It was perfect. It had enough space for the both of them, an empty home library for all of Aziraphale’s books and a huge garden for all of his many plants.

He brought it up with Aziraphale and was met with positive feedback. They met with a realtor and arranged the purchase of the house, buying it with their collective savings and moving in on a rainy spring afternoon. The house itself was dusty but otherwise clean. The garden however was full of weeds and overgrown grass. It was a bit of a fixer-upper but with time, it would be manageable.

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm of unpacking their things and fixing up the garden. Aziraphale was apprehensive at first, worried that he would mess it up, but got into it pretty quickly. The grass was mowed and weeded. They whipped up a few raised beds and sowed a few seeds. When they didn’t start growing straight away, Aziraphale got annoyed and Crowley had to remind him that these things took time.

Aziraphale wasn’t the best at waiting for things; whenever he wanted something to be ready it was, all it took was a small miracle. The only thing this didn’t work on was plants. He had tried it a few times before but they always withered away from his ethereal energy. The only thing to do was wait.

The waiting itself was excruciatingly boring, but when the plants first began to sprout, they were both really excited. A few weeks passed, and they were growing well. There was only one problem.

They just couldn’t agree how to treat the plants. Crowley insisted on what he called tough love, whereas Aziraphale tended to baby them. So they divided the plants between the two of them.

Crowley watered his plants daily and pruned the dead branches. If they grew, they grew. If they died… then… they died. He also yelled at them to make them grow better, which they did out of pure fear. Aziraphale thought this was just cruel and would go behind Crowley back to be kind to the plants, giving them compliments and encouragement.

Aziraphale on the other hand carefully watered his plants regularly and spread fertilizer on a weekly basis. He weeded the beds and gave the taller plants support beams so that they could grow straight. He was always chatting to them and complimenting their appearance, making them grow brilliantly, trying to please him. Often he found himself searching through his once forgotten gardening books for new tips and tricks or to help him diagnose some obscure disease or insect infestation

Their tactics couldn’t have been more different. That was where the arguments came from.

It was a quiet Sunday morning and Aziraphale was in the garden spraying insecticide on his cabbages and scattering some slug repellent when he notice black spots on some of the leaves of Crowley’s roses. He had heard of this before. Diplocarpon rosae. It was an invasive fungal infection that could decimate rose plants if nothing was done.

Crowley would probably just cut off the affected branches and burn them. Aziraphale planned to tell Crowley when he got home and went to go inside but he stopped himself. He had some fungicide in the shed and Crowley didn’t have to know. He fetched the fungicide and sprayed it on Crowley’s rose bush, before going inside.

Crowley got home from the city, where he worked. He didn’t tell Aziraphale much about it because he never really asked. It was dull but well paying. He took of his coat and went to check on the roses – his favourite plants. When inspecting them, he caught a waft of something strange. It was a sharp and chemical smell. He took a closer look and smelt it again.

He recognized it. Fungicide. Aziraphale had tampered with his plants. He was pissed and went to confront him about it. Crowley thundered into the kitchen. Aziraphale was sat at the kitchen table sipping his tea. Crowley slammed his hand down on the table, making Aziraphale jump.

“Crowley, Dear, I hadn’t realised that you were-“ said Aziraphale before Crowley cut him off.

“You tampered with my plants didn’t you? We agreed to keep our plants separate. You promised me that you wouldn’t mess with my plants!”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so mean to them,” mumbled Aziraphale.

“What did you say?” asked Crowley.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so mean to your plants!” yelled Aziraphale, standing up and raising an accusing finger. “Your so mean to them all the time and it’s not fair on them,”

“My methods work Aziraphale! Babying them will do them no good in the long run,” Crowley muttered.

“I don’t have to deal with this,” said Aziraphale, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” He stormed up the stairs, leaving Crowley alone. As soon as he saw Aziraphale leave, he regretted what he said. Sighing, he put his head in his hands.

Aziraphale was reading while sat cross-legged on the bed. He was furious at Crowley. Why was he being like that? He angrily turned a page. When the door cracked open, he didn’t look up. Crowley cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m sorry. I guess everything got a bit much for me. It’s difficult for me to admit but I miss the way things were sometimes. When everything was familiar you know? Everything is so new now” he said sheepishly.

Aziraphale closed his book and set it on the table. “I think I know what you mean. It’s been months but I still try to call the head office and worry about getting caught with you. It makes no sense but in a strange way, I miss it. Having a purpose and a place to be, I suppose,” he said, laughing weakly. “I think we’re both a little in the wrong here, dear. Shall we shake hands and move onwards?”

“Yes,” said Crowley. “I’m sorry,”

“So am I,” smiled Aziraphale “But try to be nicer to your plants, okay?”

“I will,” agreed Crowley, with a yawn. “Are you about done reading for the night?”

“I think I am,” said Aziraphale, switching off his lamp.

“Goodnight dear,” he said as Crowley crawled into bed next to him.

“Goodnight Angel”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr.  
> [my account](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/inkwell1013)


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